


Queens Council

by gardnerhill



Series: Joan's Beez [2]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bees, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brownstone’s matriarchs discuss the crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queens Council

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #11: **Save the Bees!** This is another story in my Joan's Beez AU that includes [The Hive Watch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1888002).

“Joanie, we got a problem,” said the queen. “A big fuckin’ problem.”

“I know,” Watson said – ostensibly into a Bluetooth but actually to the _Euglassia watsonia_ queen bee lurking in her hair near her left ear. “Bees are dying everywhere, One, not just here. Humans are trying to track down the causes.”

The One of the hive wasn’t the only concerned party. Joan had seen the tiny curled bodies scattered on the roof, and the stricken look on Sherlock’s face as he knelt over the bees he’d named for his partner, perishing like all the others. She’d promised to help him mix up the sugar-water to feed the bees in the hive while he searched for the cause in the environment.

“The world is changing,” said the One. “More and more of my girls ain’t comin’ home. This is bigger than that freakin’ drone of yours can fix, with all due respect.”

Joan nodded in sympathy even as she pressed her lips to hide a smile; the queen clearly abided by the traditional use of “with all due respect” by many Italian-American New Yorkers to excuse a vitriolic insult before or after. “My ‘drone’ believes it’s the pesticides used on the flowers and plants nearby. Neo-nicotinoids are the substances that kill the bugs – and bees with them.”

“Well, that’s it, we’re screwed.” The queen angrily fanned her wings. “Is there any place you fuckin’ humans haven’t pissed poison all over everything good to eat?”

A good question. “We’ll feed your people nectar until we can find a solution,” Joan said. “They’ll be able to turn that into honey for you and your brood.”

Any place? Upstate New York, possibly – more and more pesticide-free gardening and farming was making a tiny dent in the massive agribusiness. But some of the flowering plants around here had to be safe, weren’t they? And what if they could be told apart?

Joan could communicate with her bees. That meant she might be able to teach them what to avoid, and how. But that wouldn’t help all the other bees in the world. Unless…

“Your Solitude,” Joan said to the queen. “Can your workers communicate with other kinds of bees? Honey bees, I mean?”

“Well, _duh_ ,” the One sneered. “The Dance is the Dance, ain’t it?”

“Well,” said Joan, as the idea took hold inside her. “I can communicate with you, and your brood. You can communicate with them. What if my partner and I find a way for you to recognize when a plant’s got poison on it?”

The One’s wings stilled. “You mean so the girls know what’s safe to eat? And dance the information to other workers, not just their cellmates?”

“Yes!” Too early, it was all hypothesis, but for the first time Joan felt a thread of hope for the bees inside her.

“Joanie.” The One was very serious. “You know what that means.”

Joan nodded, a little sadly. “It means I let Sherlock know about you and your hive. But this is too important to keep a secret, One – not when your workers are dying, and all the other bees too. He admires you, as a species. He might even love you. He’ll keep your secrets too.”

“And speaking of secrets, Joanie,” said the One, “tell him to quit hiding his stupid queen’s messages in my hive, will you?”

Now it was Joan Watson’s turn to go still. “Queen? Messages?”

One sounded stern. “Another queen courting your drone. Shame on you, Joanie. Those papery things he keeps in my hive-box have her stink all over them, and she don’t smell like the best queen in the world for a drone like him.”

After a pause – a very long pause – Joan glared toward the entrance to the rooftop. “Oh, I’ll TELL him all right. Let’s go find him.”

One fluttered her wings. “Oh, this is gonna be _good_.”


End file.
